


The Most Dangerous Word

by clarkescrusade (alindy)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/clarkescrusade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Clarke’s laughter pushed Monty forward and gave him, despite him knowing that this word was the most dangerous of them all, the littlest bit of hope."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Dangerous Word

In a past life, or maybe a future one, Monty thought he must have been meant for more than this. He was good at chemistry, had a real knack for plants, and maybe in some other world this would help him, but now it proved practically useless. Sometimes, when he was meant to be getting the miniscule hours of sleep he could steal for himself, he sat and thought about what kind of future he would have had if nothing went wrong.

“Shake a leg, Monty,” Jasper cooed in his ear, plopping down on top of him on the couch. Monty groaned slightly, pushing him away and chuckling slightly as he clattered loudly to the ground. These days, pretty much the only joy Monty got was from Jasper and his craziness; how Jasper managed to still be so joyful after everything they’d been through, Monty had no idea.

“Where to today?” Monty muttered, pushing himself up on the couch.

“Clarke thinks it’s time for a change of scenery,” Jasper stated.

“I do,” Clarke added, appearing in the doorway already packed and ready to go. “Get your stuff together, we’re going into the city.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Monty proposed, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

“Nothing these days seems like a good idea,” she returned with a scoff. “Washington DC seems better than dying out here in the burbs with no food.”

“So that means we need to do a supply run?” Jasper groaned. “I was getting really used to not seeing grounders.”

“Well, get your game faces on, cause we’re leaving as soon as you get your lazy asses up,” Clarke ordered.

* * *

As long as he would live, Monty was pretty sure he would never get used to the feeling of a gun hanging over his shoulder. It was a necessary evil, he knew that, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Clarke seemed to pick it up too easily, and Jasper grew to be comfortable with it, but Monty was sure he would always carry a bit of awkwardness around with it.

“Conserve bullets,” Clarke ordered, “only shoot if we see a horde.”

Jasper nodded knowingly, pulling out a long sword he had picked up in some medieval history teacher’s office they had jaunted through when they stayed in a college for a night. Monty and Clarke usually exchanged an eye roll when he unsheathed the thing, but happiness was so difficult to find these days that they never told him to stop. Clarke grabbed a knife from the waistband of her pants, prepared to throw it at a moment’s notice.

The trees seemed to shake around them, and the hairs on the back of Monty’s neck stood straight up. It was hard to know sometimes whether he was being normally paranoid or paranoid for no reason at all. Something cracked to their right, and the three of them halted in their movement. A small groan came from the bush, and Jasper stepped forward as a grounder with no legs crawled pathetically toward them.

“I’ve got this,” he stated. The sword went up and then back down, a sort of fury settling into the bones of Jasper as he swung downward. That was the only time (when Jasper was swinging or shooting) that Monty remembered Jasper had seen horrors, that he had watched Harper die in front of him and had been given no choice but to take her down when she turned. Monty hadn’t been in the room, but he had seen him walk toward him with blood on his hands and a butcher knife dangling from his fingers.

“Come on, we can make it to the hospital before nightfall if we keep pushing,” Clarke reminded them. Jasper gave a solid nod, and Monty silently agreed. They kept their steady pace, unbothered by any other grounders until they reached the borders of the city. It became more difficult then, the three of them all doing their part as they fought their way to Ark Hospital, and when Monty pushed the door closed behind him he couldn’t help but release a sigh of relief.

“Can you guys handle it if we split up? Just this once,” Clarke stated. “We need to get some supplies together and then we’ll meet on the children’s corridor, ok?”

“I’ll try to find some food,” Jasper announced, already turning and walking away, his sword unsheathed.

“I’m going to check medical supplies. You want to see if there’re any clothes hidden away in the locker area? I could _so_ use a change of shirts at the very least,” Clarke proposed.

“Got it,” Monty agreed. He moved toward the stairwell, pushing his way up to the third floor. It wasn’t hard to find the lockers, and once he started going through a wall of them he found a few items that may be salvageable. A sound came from further away, and Monty thought it sounded like something dripping. “No way,” he whispered to himself, rushing toward the sound.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he exclaimed, looking at the dripping showerhead. His hand reached out, letting a droplet fall onto his hand. When was the last time he had felt running water? When he could claim to feel clean, refreshed? Without thinking, Monty set down his bag and his weapons, his shirt already half off as he turned the faucet on. He felt like crying as the shower powered up, water shooting out at full force. Monty pulled the shirt completely over his head, throwing it to the side.

“Put you hands up,” came a voice. Monty cursed his luck, already dreading what Clarke would say about him being so uncautious; that is...if he ever got to see her again. Him, Clarke, and Jasper had only met up with two different groups of people in their time of wandering, but one of them had stolen their supplies at gunpoint after pretending to be on their side for a week (Monty swore if he ever saw Murphy’s face again he wouldn’t hesitate putting a bullet straight between his eyes) and the other hadn’t even bothered to say a thing to them before attacking full force.

“Hands are up,” Monty claimed, turning slowly around. “Please don’t kill me half naked, it’d be so pathetic.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” came the voice along with a chuckle. Monty finally caught a look of who it was that had found him in such a precarious situation, and couldn’t stop the quick halt in his breath that he felt as his eyes landed on him. He looked slightly the same height as himself, maybe a little bit taller, maybe a little bit older, with dark, smooth skin that was actually too good to be true. A small smirk was sitting on his lips, and as Monty finally got his breathing under control from the panic of the moment, he realized that he was also shirtless. It set all kinds of new panic through him.

“Can I please put my shirt back on? This whole situation is making me uncomfortable,” Monty declared. The man across from him laughed slightly underneath his breath, shaking his head.

“You going to try anything?” he asked.

“You’re the one pointing a gun right now...I have zero power.”

“Fine, but I’m watching you,” he stated.

“That’s clear,” Monty answered, pulling the dirty tshirt back over his head.

“Are you here alone?” he questioned.

“Wow, this isn’t exactly the best time for you to hit on me, is it?” he teased, enjoying the incredulous small shake of his head the guy responded with. “Tell me your name and I’ll answer.”

The guy stared him down for a second, his lips pursing together before he let out a sigh. “Nathan Miller, call me Miller.”

“Ok, Miller, I’m Monty and I’m here with two others. I’m assuming you aren’t alone?” he proposed.

“Two others,” he replied. “I wouldn’t doubt that they found your friends.”

“Well, knowing Clarke, I wouldn’t bet on your friends for winning that battle.”

“You haven’t met the Blakes,” Miller tested.

“We’ll see about that,” Monty replied. “Now can you lower the gun? Let’s look at you and then me, I think you could easily overpower me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, nothing makes sense in this world anymore. You must be a survivor,” Miller stated, but he lowered the gun. “I’m going to put a shirt on, and then we’re going to go find our friends and make sure they haven’t killed each other.”

“Good plan.”

* * *

When Monty and Miller did come across the rest of their respective groups, they were all sitting in opposite corners of the room, all showing some form of a struggle; Clarke had blood dripping from her nose, the dark-haired man in the far corner a blossoming black eye.

“You’ve obviously become acquainted,” Monty stated, eyes trailing over the group. Both Clarke and the dark-haired man Monty would later learn was named Bellamy sent glares in his direction, frosty stares that made him shift slightly and mutter, “tough crowd.”

“I’m Octavia,” the girl spoke, standing up and moving toward the two of them.

“Octavia,” Bellamy warned, receiving a cold look from her in response.

“We have a place not too far from here,” she continued. “I don’t trust any of you, but it’s been a really long time since we’ve come across anyone new. You have potential knowledge and resources, so it’s worth our time to be friends.”

“We’re not going to be friends,” Bellamy scoffed, stepping forward.

“She,” Jasper finally spoke up, nodding toward Clarke who had wandered over with crossed arms earlier, all of them now forming a lopsided circle, “has medical training. Not to mention we’ve basically crossed the whole of the country and probably have more knowledge about safe zones and the going ons than anyone you meet. You probably need us a lot more than we need you.”

“Did you say medical training?” Miller spoke up, his interest peaked. Octavia’s eyes had widened, and Monty couldn’t help but wonder why exactly they had such a need for medical help.

“Yes,” Clarke added, an eyebrow raised. “I don’t like to help people out, however, who are assholes,” she continued, looking pointedly over at Bellamy. He dramatically rolled his eyes, but his mouth strategically stayed closed.

“We have someone…” Octavia trailed off. “Well, I guess it’s better if you see him.”

“He isn’t past saving, is he? If he’s been bit...I can’t help him,” Clarke stated.

“Well we don’t know until you see him,” Miller stated.

“Is it too late to head back to your place?” Jasper questioned.

“It looks dark, wouldn’t want to risk it,” Bellamy declared. “We should hunker down for the night and head out first light. The grounders are usually pretty slow in the early morning.”

“Ok, then we wait,” Monty announced. “I’m going to go back to the shower now, you aren’t going to point a gun at me while I’m half naked again, are you?”

“You let your guard down to _shower_?” Clarke exclaimed.

“There’s a shower?” Octavia squealed.

Miller shared with him a small smile, remaining quiet. Monty couldn’t help but feel like maybe there was something great about Nathan Miller to be discovered, and maybe, hopefully, this time they’d get to stick around long enough for him to be able to.

* * *

Bellamy wasn’t kidding when he said they would leave at first light, because as soon as there was even the slightest bit of sun peaking over the horizon he was pushing them all awake and grunting about getting an early start. Monty was just happy to have been able to get a shower and a decent meal, he’d forgotten what it felt like not to have a small ache in his stomach that longed for more food he wasn’t capable of giving.

It didn’t take long on their trip back to wherever the Blakes and Miller stayed for Monty to see why they survived so well. Octavia wielded a samurai sword and it was clear she was proficient, slashing whatever grounder came even a little bit near them with graceful arches. It was morbidly beautiful, and Monty wondered if maybe in another life, much the way he could have been a chemist, she was a dancer.

Monty had always thought Clarke wore a gun pretty well, but it was clear now that her comfort paled in comparison to the way Bellamy carried it. He went far beyond just looking comfortable to the point where he made it look good, like an extension of himself. There was something about the way he carried it that seemed beyond just picked up knowledge and more like he’d been trained, which left soldier or cop as far as Monty was concerned.

And Miller...Miller had his baseball bat hanging by his side, ready to swing with perfect form at anything they saw. When Monty wasn’t moving forward, focused on what was ahead of him, he saw Miller in his peripheral vision playing with the bat. He threw it up and back down, flipping it in the air and catching it with learned confidence.

“We’re here,” Miller stated, stopping in front of a hotel building. While most of the group halted, Bellamy kept moving forward, opening the door with a key he had hanging on a necklace around his neck. The group followed him, watching as Octavia shut the door behind them and pulled a complicated set of locks closed.

“That’s intense,” Jasper noticed. “Who set that up?”

  
A feeling of awkwardness set in, the three of them looking around at each other and shifting slightly. Finally Miller spoke up, facing them with a certain sense of graveness. “Our friend Raven set it up, she’s one hell of a mechanic and she certainly has some good engineering ideas under her belt.”

“Where’s she now?” Clarke asked, realizing after the release of her words that maybe they were harsh. The words hung there, though, and there was no way to suck them back in.

“The full story requires a bit more time,” Octavia told them, taking large strides away from them in hopes they’d follow, “but the short story is that she left with Finn. That’s all we have time for right now.”

No one said anything else, despite curiosity over why exactly Raven and Finn would leave. It made Monty a little cautious, he was yet again reminded that they really knew nothing about each other, but there was something about these new people that made Monty feel dangerously comfortable.

They passed a few more doorways rigged in a similar manner as they moved upward, marching up several floors so that by the time they finally got to their last resting place, Monty was breathing a little too quickly for his liking.

“Lincoln is this way,” Octavia stated, motioning for Clarke to follow. Jasper followed naturally, but Monty stood still for a second, taking in his surroundings. The hotel was clearly previously something high end, marked by the chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the ornate carvings in the wood, and despite all it must have gone through it still looked fairly clean. Monty could only see into one bedroom from his angle, but it looked lived in, like someone had made it their home. In a way, he was jealous of the way they seemed settled, safe in their own regard.

“You ok?” Miller asked, sliding next to him. Monty looked over at his guarded expression that managed to hold the softest sort of empathy and gave a brisk nod. He followed after the others in the direction they had headed, trying his hardest not to think about the brown eyes that had somehow managed to appear both hard and smooth at the same time. This world wasn’t a place for feelings, for sentimentality, and that was just the hard truth.

“He was a grounder,” Clarke stated, Monty walking in just as the words slipped past her lips.

“How did you know?” Octavia questioned, already on her knees and holding the hand of the large man lying on a slightly dirty bed. The room smelled slightly of death, and Monty unconsciously cringed at the stench as it belatedly hit his nostrils.

“His vitals are still scarily slow, his eyes are still bloodshot, skin is regaining color but slowly, and…” she trailed off as he eyes flew over him, searching for something fervently. She reached for his arm, pulling up his sleeve hastily just to make a small noise of affirmation. “He has a bite,” she added.

“A women came through a week ago,” Bellamy explained, “a doctor who saved our asses. Our friend Raven had been shot and it hit her spinal cord, she couldn’t even walk until she performed the surgery.”

“Lincoln had been bit a few weeks back,” Octavia admitted, “and as childish as it was I couldn’t let myself kill him, not yet, so he was locked down in the garage beneath the hotel. The woman thought she could save him potentially, and I was desperate...so we let her try, and it appeared to work.”

“But?” Clarke prompted.

“His heart is beating and he’s human again, but it’s like there’s still a part of him that craves for human flesh. It gets less drastic each day, but he’s recovering slowly. His muscle joints are still tight, he’s barely regaining the ability to speak, and I have no idea how to gage what’s going on with him.”

“The woman,” Clarke began, seeming to stew words in her mouth before continuing on, “did she happen to go by the name of Abby? Mid 40’s? Blonde? She could have been traveling with a man, Kane.”

“How’d you know?” Bellamy questioned, stepping forward with a suspicious expression.

“You had the pleasure of meeting my mom,” Clarke replied with a fake cheery expression. “Guess that means she’s still alive; I haven’t seen her in…” her words trailed off.

“Why aren’t you traveling with your mom?” Octavia questioned.

“She killed my dad,” Clarke stated bluntly, “and then had the nerve to preach about our moral worth. We can’t simply survive, she told me, but we must make sure we are worth surviving. Surviving in this fucked up place is enough most days, if you ask me.”

“Raven and Finn left with her, or at least because of her. There was some talk of a City of Lights?” Octavia added.

“That would be Vegas,” Clarke declared. “Last we passed through it was nothing more than a handful of survivors with a ridiculous dream, but it’s become known as a safe haven. I’m going to check your boyfriend now.”

Octavia nodded grimly but gratefully, though Bellamy seemed to be bothered immensely by the word boyfriend. Monty wondered why exactly that was, but didn’t see it as even remotely appropriate to ask. Definitions of what a relationship was were so much more complicated than they ever used to be, just the same way a lot of things had grown more complicated.

“It’s just like a drug,” Clarke announced after a minute of checking over his body, “it’s weaning itself out of his body. He’s showing typical signs of withdrawal right now, and it’s going to be horrible for him, but once he’s past it he’ll be normal again. I don’t know how my mother cured a grounder, but I’m sure Lincoln will be ok as long as he can get through the next 48 hours or so.”

“Thank you,” she sighed out, his hand held in her own and pulled close to her mouth, like she may lean forward and kiss it at any time.

“I’ll make sure to keep checking in on him, but my friends need to actually sleep. Is there anywhere they can do that?”

“Clarke I’m fine,” Jasper pushed back. Monty didn’t even pretend that her words weren’t true. Despite having laid down for a few hours the night prior and sleeping on the couch in the abandoned farmhouse the night before last, Monty really hadn’t slept a significant amount for the last week or so. The fatigue was starting to really weigh on him.

“Sleep,” she snapped, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“You have to sleep, too,” Monty piped up. Clarke didn’t seem to particularly like that thought, her jaw tightening, but she nodded in response. The way her shoulders fell slightly reassured Monty that she would, a clear sign of her acceptance.

“Miller, show them to the empty bedrooms,” Bellamy ordered. Miller gave a quick grunt of acceptance, motioning for Jasper and Monty to follow behind them. As soon as Miller showed them a room, Monty fell into the bed and lost himself into oblivion; he felt like he slept for years, and a part of him wished he would never have to wake up again.

* * *

They had managed to become fairly comfortable with each other by the time a week and a half passed, Octavia and Clarke creating a close bond over hours shared by Lincoln’s bed. Jasper liked to speak to Octavia as well, the two of them sharing a strange sort of friendship where they managed to say nothing at all of importance. Once Bellamy learned that Monty had a proficient knowledge of all that was technological, he showed him the few cameras they had managed to set up to watch the perimeter, and Monty helped adjust them to have a better view and make them more efficient. Bellamy began to run things by him after that, just small ideas he had pondered slightly or appeared in his head overnight on ways to become more protected, and Monty liked the way Bellamy’s chest puffed up slightly when he told him his idea was solid. It made Monty think that maybe, in the past, he had never been told that he was worth anything. It made Monty’s chest ache at the thought, to think of the thought of worthlessness that sat inside of him.

The only two people who didn’t seem to get along that well were Clarke and Bellamy, an apparent friction evident in every interaction. Monty made it a game to watch the way they bantered and fought, and in turn Miller made it a game to watch Monty watch them. It was one of the only things that brought Monty true enjoyment, to see the way they fought and argued, but even after such a short time it was clear there was something there. Bellamy was always looking after Clarke when her eyes were trained somewhere else, and sometimes Clarke moved too closely to Bellamy without meaning to at all, like her body was naturally pulled to his own.

Miller found it hilarious that Monty found it so amusing. Not that Monty knew this because Miller had ever said anything, because if there was anything Monty had learned about the other man it was that he was quiet. His words always held meaning, were often pessimistic when spoken, but he didn’t utter them frequently. Monty liked the challenge of trying to decipher exactly what it was that Miller was thinking by his facial expressions or body language alone; it proved a fun challenge to amuse himself with.

It had been a week and a half since they’d met the Blakes and Miller, and Monty had gotten used to being able to sleep without worry and eat enough to not feel hungry. So, logically, it had to go wrong.

“I don’t think it’s good for us to stay here,” Clarke stated one morning over breakfast.

“You think we aren’t good enough for you, princess?” Bellamy snapped back, halting his actions by the dinner nook in the room they used as a communal space. The can of peaches he had been opening remained slightly ajar, his body now turned away from the food.

“It isn’t good for us to stay so still,” she elaborated. “And...I think we should go to the City of Light.”

“You do remember calling it hippie bullshit, right?” Jasper reminded, a skeptical look sitting on his face.

“I do, but if my mom mentioned it that means there’s clearly more going on there. If knowledge of the cure exists then we can get it and go help others,” she justified. No one spoke for some time, the sound of silence hanging heavy over them all.

“You know I’d follow you wherever,” Monty spoke up. He noticed the closest thing he saw to emotion fill in Clarke’s eyes, a sort of glimmer glazing over them. Clarke reached out a hand across the table and squeezed tightly onto his wrist before pulling back.

“I’d like to join.”

Monty’s eyes snapped toward Miller, who looked over them calmly. Monty’s eyes caught a shake in his hand that he attempted to cover, and Monty couldn’t begin to decipher why he would feel nervous about the statement.

“Miller!” Bellamy stated.

“We can’t stay here forever, Bellamy,” Miller replied. “We’ve  been here for a long time, but food is beginning to dwindle. I’m not naive enough to believe we can maintain this base forever. The water supply is starting to disappear, too, and I’d rather start making a journey when we still have a decent amount of supplies then when we’re desperate.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that your father’s military base was stationed around that area?” he asked. Miller stayed silent, but Bellamy took the non answer as proof enough and nodded once.

“I’ll talk to Octavia and Lincoln. He might need a day or two to fully recover, but we’ll need the time to get supplies anyhow. Take someone with you in the next day or so and check to see if the cars are still running. We’ll need a gas supply and the space cleared so we can pack most efficiently.”

“Really?” Miller replied, the surprise in his voice echoed in his features.

“I’d trust you with my life, you know that,” Bellamy answered, and he turned back to the peaches, signaling the completion of the phrase. For Bellamy Blake, Monty assumed, that was about as sappy as it got.

* * *

For some reason, there was nothing surprising about the fact that Miller approached him about going down to the garage. Monty shrugged in response, clearly enough of an answer for Miller, and followed him down as soon as he had his blade and his gun slung over his shoulder. The huff of his breath as they made their descent bothered Monty, as it was clear he had gotten a little more out of shape from his leisure time in the Hotel.

Miller turned the key in the car for only a split second, listening to the grunt of the engine before snapping it back shut. He moved over to the hood, propping it up and checking over all of the parts.

“You’re good with a baseball bat,” Monty prodded, trying to get _something_ from him. He wanted to know more, greedily so, and maybe that desire meant something bad, but Monty had lost the willingness to care about what exactly was truly bad anymore.

Miller’s hands paused over the engine, slightly greased with oil, and he shot Monty a nostalgic look before bending back over and moving deeper into the parts under the hood. “I had a full ride for baseball.”

“Are you serious?” Monty exclaimed, incapable of holding back the words. Miller chuckled in response.

“Shortstop,” he answered back, “though I was always known for my batting. I think it was because I had a lot of anger when I was younger, but it was a streamlined kind of anger, a focused energy, it made me practice my form and always have the adrenaline for a good hit. Some people were saying that I could have gone on to the Majors.”

“Is that what you wanted to do?” Monty suggested, watching the mechanical way Miller’s hands moved over the parts. Miller shrugged.

“I was good at it, one of the few things I truly had a talent for. It came easily, mostly because I was always trying to prove to my dad that I was worthy of the family name. My family,” he explained, the words flowing from his lips like a well told story, only a handful of stutterings thrown into the mix, “was, well, loaded. My dad’s a high Military professional, I never wanted for anything in my whole life. I guess that’s not that true, though.”

“How so?” Monty questioned. Miller sighed, using the back of his hand to wipe away at his forehead before moving back down into the engine.

“We moved a lot. He never gave me enough attention. My mom was gone from a young age, and our family never really came together again right after it. It was just my dad and me and I guess, well...to be honest I guess I always wanted to feel...something. I felt empty a lot, and I didn’t always chose the best things to fill it.”

“Before all of this,” Monty replied, a light tone in his voice, “I was part of a pretty strict family myself. Jasper and I used to smoke pot like crazy, partially because we just liked it, partially to piss off our parents, mostly because we were looking for something more. Man, some days what I wouldn’t do to have a high just for a few moments.”

“You high,” Miller began as he screwed something tightly before tapping the engine slightly and pulling back, wiping his hands away on a cloth Monty hadn’t even noticed until this moment, “is something I would pay to see.”

“Weren’t those the days,” he joked back. “Clarke used to yell at us all the time for it, her and Wells…”

“Wells?” Miller asked softly, no push in his voice. Monty knew he didn’t have to answer, that he could push it away with a light smile and joke, with a change of subject, but there was something about the intensity of Miller’s eyes in front of him that made him want to.

“Another lost soldier,” he replied with a shrug. “Clarke, Jasper, and I have known each other a long time. So did Wells, he...he was probably one of the best people I’ve ever known. He didn’t…”

How did Monty begin to describe Wells? How he had always reminded him of a big open forest, blowing in the breeze and distinctly hunter green. His smile could warm hearts, his mouth could spew the most profound thoughts, his heart was so large Monty couldn’t even begin to imagine the depth of it. Wells knew how to keep Clarke in check, knew how to cheer her up when no one else did, and when a Grounder (a little girl, so tiny Monty knew there was no way she could have ever lived a life before being turned into a monster) snuck up and managed to bite him in the hand, there was nothing they could do.

So much nothing.

“I don’t know a single person who hasn’t lost someone,” Miller spoke up. There was something distinctly comforting about that thought. Yea, maybe life just sucked, but it sucked for everyone. There was absolutely no way of avoiding the horrors.

The two of them moved over to the other car, the key sliding in quickly before Miller pulled it out. He must have been happy with the sound, because he gave an affirmative nod and moved to the back of the pickup to make sure it was all clean. There was nothing much to move around, so he pulled the back open and pushed himself up and into a sitting position. Monty quickly joined him.

“Have you known the Blakes forever or…?”

“Octavia and I went to the same college before…” he trailed off, his hands making a sort of gesture that Monty understood. “Besides sharing a media class, we didn’t know each other that well. I knew Bellamy slightly from working at the same bar as him before he joined the academy, but it happened by chance that we met.”

“The academy?” Monty asked.

“Police Academy, Bellamy was a police officer. Or one in training, I’ve never really known how far in his training he was when the big grounder nuke dropped,” Miller clarified. “When the shit started to hit the fan I went straight to the police department to try to get some weapons and the rest was history. Finn and Raven joined us a little bit after that, we ran into them at a mall and Octavia and Finn had worked at the campus cafe together, Raven had slept with Bellamy once in a moment of desperation about a half of a year previously.”

“And what about Lincoln?”

“Ah…” Miller began, bending forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It had been a few months into this Hell on Earth when he came around. Octavia got separated in a recon mission and he saved her life; she would have died if he hadn’t picked her up and brought her somewhere safe. He had been alone for a while after his group started to turn scarily masochistic, and something about the two of them clicked. There are some people in this world, that when you see them together you just know they were destined for each other, or at the very least they have a connection that can never be rivaled. I’m certain there’s nothing in this world that could pull those two apart.”

“And Bellamy didn’t have a problem with that? Lincoln seems a bit older than her.”

“Oh, that was definitely a problem. It took a while for Bellamy to get over that, but he isn’t the only Blake sibling who’s ridiculously stubborn, so he just had to learn to deal with it.”

“Sounds about right,” Monty declared. “We should probably head back.”

Miller reached out, halting Monty’s movement with a hand on his shoulder. Monty found himself startled by the pleasant heat of it.

“Not just yet,” Miller stated. “Just for a few moments let’s just...sit.”

And so they did.

* * *

They left two days later, and Monty was surprised to meet Lincoln for the first time. He was much more massive when he was standing straight up, and Monty rather enjoyed the juxtaposition of how he treated everyone and how he treated Octavia. Lincoln wasn’t rude, actually quite the opposite, but it was clear that however he was raised it was most definitely to be a warrior, and the natural brashness and realism only left his eyes when Octavia was near. His touch was softer, more gentle, and there was something seriously uplifting that even in a time as horrible as that love could be found.

Monty found himself stuffed in the car with Miller, Bellamy, and Clarke. He assumed it would be much quieter in the other car and a ridiculous amount more relaxing, but he wouldn’t change his seat for the world. Miller and him exchanged knowing looks every time Bellamy and Clarke had a dispute, and Monty liked to look at the way Clarke’s eyes trailed over Bellamy’s body and face too long to be merely friendly. There was something very longing about the gaze, something needing, and Monty knew there was something more than just attraction between the two.

Bellamy and Clarke had a sort of magnetism, a sort of primal need that went deeper than just like or even love (though it was much too early for that, but Bellamy’s gazes made Monty question it). Even with the harsh words and easy banter, there’s a part of them Monty suspected enjoyed it, relished it, and at the base of everything they had a mutual respect, fondness. Monty just prayed that Clarke didn’t get screwed over, because Clarke was already unnaturally closed off, and he wasn’t all that sure she could handle another loss and keep on moving.

Love was a dangerous game to play those days, Monty knew; it’s why he reminded himself to shift his gaze away from Miller when he had the opportunity to have stolen moments, secret glances.

“Do you think it’s possible to find cotton candy somewhere? I could seriously go for some cotton candy…” Monty trailed off, his eyes trained on the scenery around him as they drove. The freeway was surprisingly open, and Monty was glad he didn’t have to stop too frequently to help push cars away.

“We ain’t stopping at any carnavals,” Bellamy scoffed, his hands grasping tightly to the steering wheel. “You have seen Zombieland, right?”

“A guy can dream,” he sighed wistfully. Miller chuckled lightly, and Monty had to close his eyes to remind himself that he shouldn’t enjoy the sound so much.

“You doing alright?” Clarke whispered comfortingly over to him, a gentle hand placed on his forearm. Monty returned her words with a tight smile, all too aware that there was something in Clarke’s eyes that reeked of knowing.

Monty was reminded of how boring the long stretches of land could be and the endlessness of driving for hours on end. He took a turn of driving for a short time, mostly just so Bellamy could get at least an hour or two of shut eye in the back seat (Monty watched the two of them fold together as sleep took them over through the rearview mirror; Miller shook his head fondly at the sight), but overall he enjoyed the backseat much more. Watching may be boring, but at least that way he could let his mind wander.

They drove for as long as they could on a tank of gas, stopping for only a minute or two so they could fill the tank back up before driving on another full tank. They did this for a day before the whole lot of them started going slowly insane, the only break from driving their constant need to clear the highway. Clarke finally made the group decision to stop for a night for the sake of all of their sanity, and Monty released a sigh of relief when Bellamy begrudgingly agreed.

Monty, Jasper, and Miller planted themselves down into a room first. Lincoln and Octavia left to see if they could find any odds and ends of food or anything else useful in the remaining areas of the motel while Bellamy decided to discuss the best course of action moving forward with Clarke in the adjacent room. Jasper and Miller passed out quickly, and Monty held the gun tightly to himself as he sat and thought. Suddenly, a loud sound came from the room next door and he moved without thinking, rushing forward.

Yanking the door knob back and sliding into the room, Monty’s whole body came to a standstill as he witnessed the sight in front of him.

Bellamy was on the bed, weeping out something about him being a monster and disappointing his mother while Clarke was wrapped around him in every possible way. Sobs wracked his body, and Clarke whispered things Monty could not hear as she held herself close to him. The moment was beyond intimate, he couldn’t have felt more awkward even if he had walked into a much more sexual scene, and he only gave one more quick look before rushing out of the room and closing the door softly behind him.

“Monty!” Miller exclaimed, bursting up as he ran back into the room. “What the fuck were you just doing?”

“I was jus-”

“Just what?” he yelled. It was a miracle that Jasper hadn’t been roused by the fierce words. “Just being an idiot? What if you had just been attacked? You had no backup at all.”

“I didn’t-”

“Think? That much was obvious.”

“Dude,” Monty stated incredulously, because the image of Bellamy and Clarke wrapped up in each other was still playing itself on repeat on the backs of his eyelids.

“Don’t,” Miller began, a sort of defeat taking over his voice, “just...don’t.”

Monty didn’t know what to say to that, so he chose to say nothing at all. Miller sighed deeply as his eyes roamed over Monty before flopping back onto the pillow and staring at the ceiling. Moving with trepidation, Monty approached the bed and laid himself down next to Miller. Besides for a tight tensing in his muscles that was hard for Monty not to notice, there was no sign of recognition of Monty’s nearness from Miller.

“Sorry,” Monty whispered out rather pathetically.

“Don’t be sorry,” Miller muttered in reply, “just don’t do it again.”

There were a million things spoken between Miller’s words, things that were damn near impossible for Monty to ignore. There were messages of fear, of caring, a deep seated _something_ that Monty wasn’t quite capable of putting a name to yet. Monty had been aware that Miller had cared, but he hadn’t realized that maybe Miller cared just as much as he did. There was a sort of desperation slipped between his words that had Monty feeling a tightness in his chest. Without fully comprehending the movement, Monty reached out his hand and intertwined his fingers with Miller’s.

Miller squeezed them once, but did not let go.

* * *

Monty woke up to the loud rumbling of a chorus of angry grounders.  He wasn’t all that sure it just wasn’t part a nightmare at first, but then he sprang up and looked around to notice everyone else rattling awake as well. Lincoln and Octavia were cuddled close to the bathroom, Jasper on the other bed, and Clarke had been sleeping on the ground with Bellamy on a chair facing the door. Monty assumed he was meant to be keeping watch, but he had clearly accidentally dosed at some point.

“How many?” Jasper spoke up first, the reality of the situation hitting them all. Octavia sprang up from her spot furthest from the door and moved quickly and quietly toward the window, slowly shifting the curtain just to display an ugly look on her face afterwards that said more than any words she could ever say.

“Too many,” she announced. “Is there a back way out of this room?”

Lincoln had stepped into the bathroom at some point during Octavia’s display, and he walked out with a strong head shake no. Clarke looked toward Monty and Jasper, her eyes questioning.

“What?” Bellamy spoke up. “If you know something we don’t, now would be a pretty freakin’ great time to speak up, princess.”

“I have a grenade,” Monty answered for her. “This close it’s pretty risky though. We’d have to break some part of the window to throw it and we’d have to hope we got it far enough away that we weren’t in the critical zone. Casualty producing radius is probably around 15 meters but it can still shoot shrapnel for way more than that.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Miller added.

“Miller’s right,” Bellamy agreed. “We’ll just have to try to throw it right into them and then stay in the bathroom for the blast, we’re as good as dead if we don’t.”

“We’re as good as dead if we do,” Jasper muttered, but no one paid attention to the remark.

“I’ll break the glass a little higher up, but you’re going to need to throw it as precisely and as quick as you can,” Bellamy spoke to Miller. “As soon as the glass breaks they’re going to know we’re here for sure and hands are going to start trying to break in.”

“Ok, just…” Miller breathed out, standing up and shaking out for a second. He tried to compose his body, to stop the shaking in his hand that Monty could see, but Monty wondered if this was something someone could ever get used to. “Monty,” he released his name in a breath, something strangely tender about it as he looked toward him and held out his hand. Monty noticed the softness in his eyes, the pressure of a message he was trying to send _just in case_ , but it was hard for Monty to know what exactly it was. When Monty passed over the grenade, their hands strayed over one another for too long.

“Get in the bathroom,” Miller declared, turning away from him. Monty did as he was told, tugging Clarke behind him. They moved toward the bathroom, grabbing all of their supplies and slipping through the door.

There was an eerie sense of silence after they all shuttled into the bathroom, all waiting for a deadly blast so they could make a run for it. Miller and Bellamy rushed in after them half a minute later and closed the door tightly. “You get touched?” Bellamy asked, looking over Miller’s arms. He shook his head no frantically, moving forward himself to check Bellamy’s hands out.

“Thank god,” he whispered with relief. For a second the blast caught them off guard, Miller stumbling away from it and into Monty. Monty held onto him tightly, grateful for the quick assuring look Miller sent his way before adjusting himself back up.

“Now or never,” Bellamy stated. Clarke smiled slightly at him, and it was clear he tried his best to smile back, even if it came out more like a grimace. Bellamy shouldered the door open, the pliable wood breaking underneath his pressure. The wall of the motel room was blown apart, parts of the wall shot into the beds and the remaining wall structures. The already useless TV was even more useless, shattered over the floor, and a putrid smell filled the area at the broken bodies of the grounders around them.

“Move toward the car, it might still be ok,” Clarke declared. The group moved as quickly as they could manage, though they were slowed by their need to make sure none of the grounders that were just parts on the ground were capable of biting one of their ankles when they weren’t paying attention.

The car closest to the motel room was ripped apart, and all they could save from it was a sleeping back that had been shoved under one of the seats and some medical supplies that had been in a metal container in the back. The group rushed toward the other car, and Monty found it soothing to follow the path Miller set forth for him. He moved quickly, his back muscles evident through his shirt as he swung at any of the grounders that managed to survive the blow and brought them down.

“It’s been hit, but I think she may be able to take us a little bit, even if it is just a little further away from here,” Miller added. The car itself didn’t look promising, two of the windows broken and the door hit in from something slamming into it, but Miller had looked underneath the hood and seemed sure. It was tight to push all of them in, but upon hearing and seeing the horde that began pouring from the forest, they weren’t left with much of a choice.

“Oh shit,” Jasper whispered underneath his breath, Bellamy twisting the key into the ignition but hearing nothing but a sputter come.

“I thought you said this was working!” Bellamy yelled, the grounders moving quicker than would be expected as they poured larger and more furious than they’d noticed before.

“It should be!” Miller screamed, pushing forward through the seats and looking frantically over the dash like it held some sort of secret to the mess they were in. Bellamy twisted the key a few more times, nothing but the sputtering responding to the movement. There was nothing they could do if the car didn’t start, Monty realized, the grounders were still a little bit away but there was no way they could escape from them all and all survive. No way at all.

Bellamy reached his head back, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes. “If there’s a God…” he muttered, pushing forward and snapping back to attention, shifting the keys once more just for the engine to purr awake. Octavia squealed in excitement, leaning over to the front seat and planting a quick kiss to Lincoln’s lips before kissing Bellamy on the cheek. Clarke laughed through tears as he sped away, and she grabbed on to Jasper’s arm and clasped tightly on to it.

* * *

The car only took them an hour away before it sputtered to a stop. Still feeling victorious from their small battle, no one complained as they grabbed as much as they could carry and began their long trek to the City of Light. It was simply endless around them, flat landscape with no real grounders in sight. None of them were exactly sure where they were now, but Monty had a sneaking suspicion they had landed themselves somewhere around the border of Kansas and Colorado.

“In another life…” Clarke began, continuing on the game Octavia had started ten minutes previously. If they weren't all feeling so high still from the adrenaline rush, the game probably would have seemed rather depressing, but they were all too grateful to have something to do as they walked that they didn’t much care. “I probably would have become a doctor just because my mom wanted me to, I would have married Wells and become a politician’s wife.”

“You wouldn’t have married Wells,” Jasper snorted. “And you wouldn’t have become a doctor.”

“I think I would have,” Clarke argued. “I may not have loved Wells the way we think of true love, not the needing, passionate kind of love and definitely not what society has told us love should be, but I probably would have done it anyway. I didn’t love him like that, but I did love him in my own way, it would have felt like enough.”

“Would it _be_ enough?” Bellamy questioned, the first words he'd spoken since the beginning of the discussion. Clarke’s eyes latched on to his, and there was something emitting from her chest that shot straight through Bellamy as their eyes latched on to one anothers.

“No,” she admitted, “no where near it.”

“I was a tattoo artist, had my own shop in the northern part of the city,” Lincoln spoke up, relishing in the slight shock that took over some of the group’s faces. Monty wasn’t much surprised, though, as he’d seen the tattoos that snuck up Lincoln’s legs and slanted down his back when Lincoln’s clothes shifted just slightly and he didn’t realize anyone was watching.

“No way,” Octavia squealed, laughter pouring through her lips. “There’s no way we would have met then, because I never would have been able to get a tattoo without Bellamy murdering me. Not to mention I was going to school to be a dancer and you were on the other side of town as me.”

“Well then I guess there’s one thing to be thankful for in this Hell on Earth,” Lincoln declared, smirking slightly over to her. Octavia shook her head at his antics, but a smile broke out across her face just the same.

“I got accepted into an internship at Google the day before the world fell to shit,” Jasper admitted. The words were also news to Monty and Clarke who had never known; it made Monty ache with all that Jasper had lost. “Harper was the only person who knew and when she was gone...well it just didn’t feel right to tell anyone.”

The words hit Monty hard, and the memory of Jasper’s bloody hands flashed in front of his vision. It reminded him of coming home to find his parent’s clasped tightly together on their bed, an empty bottle of pills sitting on the bedside table. They’d left a note for him, now dirty and soft around the edges and sitting soundly on the bottom of his rucksack. It’s a miracle he hadn’t lost it in all his travels.

Monty reached behind him to find his canteen, the heat of the day bearing down on his neck harshly, but Miller anticipated his actions and held his own out for him. Monty accepted it with a gracious smile, taking a gulp and passing it back over. There was something oddly intimate about sharing canteens those days, and Monty felt the darkness that had been creeping inside of him disappear at the way Miller’s eyes trailed over him.

“My life was pretty un-extraordinary,” Bellamy admitted, his tone unusually open. “I was training to be a cop, but I mostly just worked shitty jobs to make sure Octavia could get through college and lived off as little as possible. As horrible as it sounds, this life is almost better for me than that one ever would be. At least I’m free.”

It felt wrong to comment on what Bellamy said, mostly just because it was so uncharacteristically truthful and open. Clarke eye’s shined with something Monty could not decipher, and she stepped closer to him. Their arms held breaths between them, grazing each other every few strides unconsciously.

“What I would do for a burger,” Monty broke the silence, his mouth watering with the thought of it.

“Jambalaya,” Miller stated. “My mom’s old recipe, God I hope it still exists somewhere.”

“I just really want grasshopper fudge ice cream,” Octavia dreamed aloud, a wistful tone to her voice.

“We should stop at a liquor store next time we come across a town,” Clarke declared with a chuckle. “It might do us some good.”

“Dangerous words, princess,” Bellamy declared.

“To be honest I’d just settle with some shaped Kraft mac n’ cheese,” Clarke replied. Bellamy chuckled slightly.

“That I can actually probably do. As soon as we see civilization I promise you we’ll have a mac n’ cheese feast,” Bellamy promised.

“Bellamy Blake,” Clarke jokingly gasped, eyeing him teasingly, “who knew you were such a charmer?”

Miller and Monty shared a knowing look, a sort of giddiness taking over them. Monty could barely remember the last time Clarke joked so lightly, looked so actually, dare he say it, _happy_ (it was a dangerous word to say, because the word was almost always followed by something so very _not_ happy). Clarke’s laughter pushed Monty forward and gave him, despite him knowing that this word was the most dangerous of them all, the littlest bit of hope.

He hoped it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

* * *

The promised mac n’ cheese feast was actually just as good as Clarke’s imagination had led them all to believe. It may have also been because they’d been walking for two days before finally finding a spot they could rest for longer than a handful of hours at a time, but Monty didn’t much care either way. It was just nice to be able to stop and rest for a little while and eat something that wasn’t from a can he had to cut open with a pocket knife.

After dinner, Clarke ignored Bellamy’s request for first shift of watch by tugging his arm toward a bedroom. Miller told her he would happily do it, and despite Bellamy’s grumbles, he didn’t fight Clarke as she pulled him toward a room and closed the door behind the two of them. Monty wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it. Comfort was hard to find, he had no right to demolish anyone else's.

Lincoln and Octavia turned in shortly after, and Jasper chose to stare into the fireplace for a bit before meandering off himself to some corner of the house. Monty decided to sit with Miller, the two of them positioned on the couch closely but not distinctly together. Their shoulders grazed and occasionally their thighs brushed, but neither made distinguished movement to touch the other.

“Have you ever been in love?” Miller questioned. Monty had known that there were stormy thoughts in Miller’s head because of the expression on his face and the tightness in his shoulders, but that question hadn’t been what he’d been expecting in the slightest.

“No,” Monty answered truthfully. He’d barely been in a relationship, and despite a few drunken hookups his freshman year of College, he had very little experience. “You?”

Miller thought deeply about it, his lips pursing together as his brain pushed to answer. “I don’t think so.”

“I think you would know if you had, but maybe that’s me being an optimist,” Monty commented.

“I like that you’re an optimist,” Miller admitted. “I don’t know how you have so much hope in this fucked up place.”

“I don’t have hope,” Monty scoffed. “I’m just holding on to anything I can get a grip on and seeing how long I can manage not to slip.”

“You seem to be doing a pretty good job,” Miller declared with a shrug.

Monty wanted to tell him that he wasn’t, that most nights he could barely sleep and that he had nightmares when he was awake. Most importantly, he wasn’t holding on anymore because every time he was around Miller he felt like his grip was slipping and his heart was thawing. Monty may have never felt love before, but he thought that Miller was the most hopeful thing he had ever witnessed.

Without knowing why, Monty’s breathing sped up, and before he even knew exactly what he was doing he had grabbed on to Miller’s dingy grey tshirt and was pulling him close. Monty’s hands grabbed onto the side of Miller’s face and his lips attacked Miller’s hungrily, like the last gulp of air before drowning. Miller responded just as intensely, pushing him back down onto the couch and leaning over him, one hand next to his head to prop himself up and the other already greedily grabbing at the skin underneath Monty’s shirt.

“Miller,” Monty sighed, Miller’s mouth attacking his neck and kissing trails over his skin. Monty couldn’t remember ever feeling so alive, so full of fire, and it was impossible for him not to groan out loudly and reclaim Miller’s mouth. All he wanted was more, needed more, and Monty clumsily pulled at the hem of Miller’s shirt to get it over his head.

“You need to know,” Miller spoke breathlessly, pulling away for a second between kisses, sitting back slightly and helping Monty get his own shirt over his head. Monty pushed him back, straddling his hips and smiling down at him. Miller smiled full of content, eyes trailing lavishly over him.

“I know,” Monty answered in a dangerous whisper, anything louder going to break the moment. “Trust me, I _know_.”

* * *

Life, truthfully, did not change much. Monty felt lighter than normal, and Miller smiled more often. Clarke and Bellamy were whispering more frequently than speaking loudly, and Jasper groaned things underneath his breath about _couples_ , but even with all of this the group functioned much the same way it had. They only stayed at the house for a day more before packing up and heading out, barely stopping for days afterward just so they could be done with this ridiculous journey. Three days later they came across a functioning car with a full tank of gas and a rifle sitting in the trunk. Bellamy claimed it was a gift from God and planted a solid kiss on Clarke’s mouth.

Monty wasn’t positive it was their first kiss, but Clarke looked surprisingly shocked for a person who may or may not have shared a kiss with him before. He figured she could have also just been shocked that he was willing to kiss her in public, but Monty didn’t really care. He was just happy to see the incredulous smile that took over her face afterward.

The car rode them straight to the city in less than half a day, but once they’d reached the city limits they decided it was best to ditch the car. Cars made too much noise most of the time, and cities had different population levels. It was impossible to know whether a horde would trap you in and pull you out of the vehicle.

“We’ve got to almost be there,” Jasper mumbled tiredly, his sword hanging pathetically from his arms.

“You aren’t whimping out on us all now, are you?” Miller teased, a sharp laugh leaving his mouth. Monty smiled too, looking over at Miller to share in the moment.

“Miller!” he screamed, noticing the grounder behind him before anyone else did. The grounders hands reached out, grabbing onto Miller’s arms, and Monty launched himself forward. A scream erupted from Miller, something dark and horrifying, but Monty didn’t have time to figure out what exactly had happened. He kicked the grounder hard in the stomach, bringing him to the ground before shooting him twice straight in the head. Monty felt the blood splatter over his face, but he didn’t much care, turning back toward Miller as soon as he was sure he had gotten rid of the monster.

“Miller,” Monty breathed out, rushing to his side. His breathing was shallow and there was pain evident in his eyes. “Are you ok? What happened? Speak, speak.”

“I’m...fine,” he gritted out. “The bastard displaced my shoulder, I think he might have broken my upper arm too.”

“The bullet is going to attract more grounders, we have to keep moving,” Clarke pleaded.

“Thank God,” Monty released in a shaky breath, a sob accompanying his words. His hands found the side of Miller’s face, resting his forehead against his own for a quick second before kissing him like his life depended on it. “”Jesus Christ, I love you? Ok? I love you so don’t do that again you fucker.”

Miller’s face seemed to crack open with his smile, giving a brisk nod. “I love you, too.”

“That’s great, now let’s go,” Bellamy ordered, moving to Miller’s side and helping him up along with Monty. “You going to be ok?”

“Yea,” Miller breathed out, the corners of his eyes finding Monty, “I’m going to be just fine.”

“Ok, Romeo, let’s book it,” Bellamy replied with a roll of his eyes. As soon as the words were out, more grounders came in the direction the now dead grounder had also come, spilling out of the side alley.

“Let’s do this,” Octavia stated, the samurai sword up and ready to go.

“Now I am become death,” Bellamy mumbled out.

“The destroyer of worlds,” Clarke added, sending a quick look in his direction before charging forward. At some point during this whole grounder apocalypse, Clarke had trained herself in lonely late night hours to throw knives. It was frightening to watch her throw them with incredible precision, but also strangely beautiful in a macabre way. She ran out quickly, though, and then the whole group was charging forward, fighting them off with whatever they could manage.

A grounder grabbed Bellamy from behind, and Clarke let out a shrieking cry as its hand clawed at Bellamy’s arm and left a long trail of blood in its wake. Pulling a knife out of a dead grounder on the ground, Clarke took a sound breath and aimed, the knife planting itself soundly into the grounders head.

“Are you insane?” Bellamy exclaimed.

“You’re welcome,” she snapped back.

“When we get to this stupid City of Lights we’re going to have sex. I am not dying without having sex with you,” Bellamy declared, wiping right and knocking a grounder to the ground.

“Monty just fucking admitted he loved Miller and all I get is ‘I want to have sex with you’? You piece of shit, Bellamy,” Clarke yelled back, grunting loudly as she kicked a grounder hard in the gut.

“No,” he replied loudly, “I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you, you beautiful, crazy thing, but that’s just one of the things I want to do with you during that time.”

Clarke threw her head back with laughter, only allowing herself a split second before she flew back into the throngs of the battle.

After they’d taken down the first horde, Lincoln yelled for them to retreat down the main street. They pushed forward, Monty sticking close to Miller’s side as he ran with all he could muster. There was a thick sheen of sweat over his forehead, and Monty worried about the pallor of his skin. Time was not on their side, however, and Monty couldn’t spare too many seconds to think about it if they wanted to get there.

“To the right!” Clarke bellowed. “It’s to the right!”

Lincoln, who had led the pack, shifted his direction quickly and did as Clarke yelled. They had to turn down another side alley shortly after to get to the door of the compound known as the City of Lights (Monty was forever grateful that Clarke remembered this, because his memories of their short stint in Vegas were so less extensive), but as they pushed around the corner another small set of grounders were there.

From the instant they began fighting them, it was clear this was not a pack of malnourished, slow monsters, but instead one filled with the worst of the worst. Monty tried his hardest to whack his way through the growing crowd, but a grounder knocked him hard into a brick wall. This was it, he thought, this was how he went out. He had no regrets, truthfully, Miller had erased them all from him, but he did feel empty at the thought of all the might have beens and potential futures.

The grounder launched itself at Monty, knocking him to the ground, his head slamming into the pavement. His hand launched at its throat, trying to at least keep its teeth away from his as long as he could manage it, but his arms were already tired and began to let go.

“Fuck you,” Miller screamed, kicking with all of his might to get the grounder off of Monty. With his good arm Miller slammed the baseball bat down into the grounder’s skull, sending a few good knocks before he released a sound breath.

“Guys!” Octavia called, and Monty pushed up to his feet as quickly as he could, pulling Miller’s good arm over his shoulder and helping him forward to the door with the remaining energy he had. Miller and Monty both dragged, but they dragged together, and finally Jasper and Clarke were yanking them through the door and shutting it closed behind them.

“Welcome to the City of Lights.”

Monty looked up to see a guy with too long, shaggy brown hair and a face that seemed to hold too much peace for a time of such struggle.

“Finn!” Octavia squealed, rushing forward and taking him in her arms. Lincoln followed, clasping tightly on to his shoulder before giving him a small embrace. Finn’s eyes found Bellamy who was clasped tightly to Clarke, his arms not leaving her waist, and they give nods that spoke much more than words probably could.

“Raven?” Bellamy questioned, his voice gruff and tired.

“She’s fine,” Finn stated. “It was a long trek but she’s good, will be good, she’s in the med tent right now where I should definitely be taking you, Jesus Miller, let’s get you guys there.”

“That would be a good idea,” Miller gritted out. “I’m glad you’re still alive, man.”

“I’m glad about that too,” he replied lightly. The group followed Finn to the med tent, all broken and battered, all less than whole, but with an undeniable feeling that everything, no matter how long it took, would be ok.

* * *

They all have a lot of wounds that need time to heal. Entering the med tent meant seeing her mom, and Clarke had a scar over her heart that was bound by her father’s name. Miller’s arm would take a long time to get back to working condition, would need a lot of work before he could swing the bat in graceful arches again. Monty had a minor concussion, Lincoln and Octavia just a deep seated need to not leave the other’s side, Jasper a slightly haunted look in his eyes, and Bellamy an incredible fear of losing Clarke.

They decided to stay for a while, needed to really, because there was no way they could go out and fight in their condition. There was a memorial for the lost in the City of Lights, and Monty and the others cleaned up the best they could and went to carve names into the large rock that was already littered with them. Monty carved his parent’s names, Clarke Well’s, Jasper Harper’s, and Octavia added the name Monroe, Lincoln Anya, Bellamy Sterling. Monty was struck by how many had been lost along the way, been gone for so long. He was just filled with relief that Miller didn’t have to put his father’s name down and instead got to embrace him again, tears leaking from his eyes and prayers muttered underneath his breath.

During recovery, Jasper met a girl named Maya who helped as a nurse. Her eyes were often clouded much likes Jasper’s, and Monty knew that her hands were filled with the names she must have carved on that rock, too. They sat together a lot, Jasper and Maya, and even when they said nothing at all they would hold hands, the darkness kept a little more at bay.

“I’m leaving,” Clarke declared a month and a half later. Monty and Miller were sitting in a small cafeteria area, hands held underneath the table, and their eyes latched on to her figure. Monty and Miller did not need to speak, but they squeezed each other’s hands and made to go pack.

They’d been given a mission, Clarke explained later, to find all the safe zones, to teach them of the cure, and Monty thought that as easy as it would be to stay here and do nothing, he couldn’t let his family leave without him. That’s what they were now, his family; screwed up, cracked, broken, _definitely_ , but his family all the same.

They packed up two cars and got all of their things together. It wasn’t the safest idea to travel with so many people (Lincoln and Octavia, Bellamy by Clarke’s side _obviously_ , Jasper and Maya, Miller and himself), but they’d done it before. They knew they could do it, or at the very least die trying. Finn had seen too much war, did not have the stomach for it, so he stayed behind and taught the children that were kept safe within the borders all that he knew. Raven’s leg was too much of a hindrance, and even more importantly she had fallen in love with an engineer with a light smile and a joking attitude, so she gifted them walkie talkies and told them to come back to her safe and sound.

In a past life, or maybe a future life, Monty thought he must have been meant for something different than this, but he didn’t much care anymore. He was more than happy with the life he’d built for himself, no matter how battered or broken, it was all _his_.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr -> [castielscrusade](http://castielscrusade.tumblr.com/)


End file.
